


love grows greater

by NinjaAtticus



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff, Hair Braiding, M/M, Missing Scene, just two dudes being soft, no one else wrote this so i had to
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-14 02:34:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20593247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NinjaAtticus/pseuds/NinjaAtticus
Summary: 'The world is indeed full of peril, and in it there are many dark places; but still there is much that is fair, and though in all lands love is now mingled with grief, it grows perhaps the greater.'Missing moment between the battle of pellinor fields and the attack on the black gatee.g I noticed Aragorn had braids in the final battle and was like what if Legolas did that?





	love grows greater

They’re all sitting in the throne room of Minas Tirith, feeling weary but gloriously alive, the wounded being shepherded to the dining hall that has been transformed into an infirmary. Legolas is happy to see the rest of the fellowship have survived the battle and Pippin and Merry have finally been reunited, the two laughing together again despite their watering eyes. Aragorn approaches them and they jump when they see him, Pippin running with a force even a Man would envy, letting the ranger pick him up and twirl him round before setting him back down on the floor again. The two hobbits chatter excessively, no doubt telling their tales of the battle but Aragorn is content just to listen, nodding his head at the appropriate moments.

There’s an openness now to him that takes Legolas by surprise, his emotions flitting across his face, the gentle slope of his shoulders that seem no longer burdened by the weight of destiny. He will be King soon, there’s no doubt about that, not with Denethor dead and the broken sword made anew. Legolas supposes though that Aragorn had decided to accept his heavy fate in the Hall of the Dead, when he had introduced himself as Gondor’s heir, a pride in his history that Legolas had never seen before. Down in the depths of that cave, even though all hope had seemed lost Legolas had been filled with purpose, the type of inspiration that only Aragorn’s gentle leadership could bring. He had never seen it before, or maybe had but never realised it, the power that Aragorn had to make people believe in him, this inborn power of Kings. Not to rule blindly but with compassion, a trust and love for those that served them. There was no doubt that Aragorn cared for those hobbits just as much as they did him.

Gimli elbows him in the side and Legolas jumps, looking down quizzically at the dwarf. “Stop staring laddie, it won’t do any good.”

Legolas scoffs at whatever Gimli is suggesting and shuffles in his seat.

“What are you talking about?” He replies, pointedly avoiding eye contact at which Gimli only looks more amused.

“I might not be an elf but I can still see.” Gimli says, raising an eyebrow and nudging Legolas again.

The elf looks down, because obviously he has no idea what Gimli is on about, but even as he tries to refute him Legolas feels his gaze wander back to Aragorn, his twinkling eyes and kind smile. It’s a confession with no words, nothing but a defeated sigh from the elf and a nod from the dwarf.

“I don’t know what to do.” He says, small and vulnerable, waiting for Gimli to laugh at his misfortune although he never does, just ponders the question in all seriousness. Legolas ought to have known he had nothing to worry about.

“Well, I think you’d better tell him,” Gimli says like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “No good keeping it locked down inside you. Especially not today.”

Legolas laughs at the audacity of the statement. “Elves can go hundreds of years keeping a secret, as much as we share music and art we share little about ourselves.”

Aragorn is talking to Gandalf now and for a moment he turns and captures Legolas’ eye. The air between them feels solid and the world empty save for them, a feeling he has only ever had for Aragorn, stolen glances and quiet moments shared upoun their great journey. Every other love he has had seems fickle compared to this one.

Aragorn beckons for them to join him, no doubt to share battle plans for the trek to the black gates. He gets up quickly, Gimli by his side, a strange confidant but a good one nonetheless and makes his way to the rest of the fellowship.

“Are you both recovered?” He asks with a wry smile. “The worst is yet to come I’m afraid.”

Legolas smirks back and Gimli slaps his axe into the palm of his hand.

“As ready as we can be.” Legolas replies and Gimli nods in affirmation, a desperate cockiness worn only by those marching toward death.

Aragorn’s smile fades and he meets their eyes with his own. “We may not come back.”

There’s a still in the room as the inhabitants chew over their dire fortune. Aragorn stands tall and Legolas feels himself rising too as though proximity to his greatness is all it takes.

“We knew the cost when we signed up.” He says, surprising himself with his braveness. “There is no one I’d rather die with.”

It’s something he believes in wholeheartedly and it must carry across because Aragorn smiles sadly again and envelopes him in a hug, Legolas breathing in the scent of the woods and trees that the ranger carries like a second skin. The moment would have been intimate if they’d been in private but the proud eyes of their companions stop Legolas from over analyzing.

“And I with you.” Aragorn says quietly as though only for him and it sounds almost like a confession. He hopes it is.

****

Aragorn is in the armoury, staring with ferocity at a breast plate on the wall as though if he just does it hard enough it will solve whatever problem he has. Legolas waits at the door, feeling as though he’s interrupting something, although he’s not sure what. After a minute of armour staring Legolas walks towards the room, making enough noise that Aragorn will turn around. The ranger looks more surprised than he normally does, he’d evidently been deep in concentration, and lets out a sigh when he sees who it is.

He gestures for Legolas to stand by him, pondering at the armour on display.

“Is it too on the nose?” He says with more self consciousness than Legolas is used to and when he turns to look at the armour the elf suddenly understands why.

The tunic is emblazoned with the white tree of Gondor, stark white against a dark background.

“King of Gondor huh?” Legolas teases lightly, seeing how this is much more than just a fashion choice.

“Not yet.” Aragorn says quietly. A silence fills the room but Legolas doesn’t fill it, instead waiting for Aragorn to say what is clearly on his mind. “I always knew this was my destiny. I used to think I didn’t want it, but I’m not so sure now. I think this is my burden to bear. And to honour. But if the world knows who I am then there’s no going back. I can’t hide behind false names or disappear into the wilderness. I do want to lead, I realized that, but I don’t want to fail them. I can’t.”

He breaths out a long breath and hastens a glance at Legolas who puts a grounding hand on the Man’s shoulder.

“It’s because you worry that you will be a great King. If someone isn’t afraid of failure they can never achieve success.” Legolas looks back at the offending garment with a laugh. “Besides, I think it’ll suit you.”

Aragorn shakes his head coyly and lifts an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Maybe black’s your colour.” The Elf jokes. “I think what you’ve got going on now is a little more rugged than people expect from royalty.”

“Okay then.” Aragorn says and nods his head firmly. “I’ll be their King.”

Legolas inhales in awe, the world seeming a little brighter for a moment as the soon to be King of Gondor takes the armour from its place. The Man takes off his tunic quickly, now that the decisions been made Aragorn will stand by it. Legolas feels himself looking away shyly even though he’s seen him in far less clothes than this. But it’s different when you’re travelling in the wilds and have little other choice, here it feels so much more intimate, suffocatingly so, and Legolas fights to stop his hands playing with his sleeves.

Aragorn straightens up finally and Legolas lets his gaze draw back to him, he’s clad in red and black, holding the chain mail he’s yet to put on.

“Do you want me to go?” Legolas asks suddenly, blurting it out because this feels like an important moment for Aragorn, one that maybe he should be dealing with himself. Aragorn looks at him incredulously though, surprised the Elf had even thought of such a thing.

“No.” He says like it’s the silliest thing in the world. “Stay. I wouldn’t trust anyone else in the fellowship for fashion advice.”

Aragorn jokes with a wry smile and a look at Legolas that sends him reeling. Despite the largely humorous tone there’s something in his words that feels frighteningly real, that he wants Legolas here, not Gandalf or the hobbits.

“Hey.” Legolas says before his mind has time to stop him. “I could do your hair if you want.”

Finally Aragorn has the sense to look surprised, fearful even, at Legolas’ question. He reaches his hand up to his hair self consciously and then brings it back down, rolling on the balls of his feet awkwardly.

“I’m pretty good at braiding.” Legolas explains, trying to save the situation and act braver than he feels. “It would look nice.”

Aragorn stands staring at him for a moment longer and then seems to shake himself back to reality. The Elf stands across from him silently, not even breathing so as not to break the strange stillness that has come over them. There were moments before this sure, when Aragorn had come back after they thought he was dead and Legolas thought his heart would burst from his chest, but there’s something about the energy that comes from your probable demise that has Legolas feeling far more reckless than he ever has before.

“Okay sure.” Aragorn says with a nervous laugh. “Remember I’m not an elf though.”

He sits down on the stone bench, and Legolas is struck by the fact that Aragorn trusts him enough to do this. He could kill the King of Gondor before he even realized it, if of course Legolas did not love him so much. He kneels down behind him and tentatively comes up to comb his hair with the one he keeps in his belt, much to the amusement of Gimli. He’s happy for it now though.

“You washed your hair.” Legolas says softly with disbelief, Aragorns hair is so much softer than he had imagined and the brown is lighter than it normally is.

“Don’t act so surprised.” Aragorn says, looking down at the floor as Legolas tries carefully to get rid of the tangles, trying to avoid any bits breaking off. Aragorn exhales a deep breath and the tension in his shoulders releases, an unusual looseness to his body. He wonders if he’s closing his eyes.

Taking great care, Legolas starts to section off the bits on the side and deftly braids them between his fingers, sticking his tongue out a little in concentration. He fishes around in his pouch for some silver beads and slips them on, feeling a strange pride that Aragorn will be going into battle with these Elvish trinkets.

He ties it up and then sits back admiring his handiwork, sighing with relief that he managed to do a good job, his nerves hadn’t gotten the better of him this time.

“I’ve finished.” Legolas says and Aragorn turns round to look at him, feeling the back of his head gingerly.

“Are those your beads?” He asks quietly and Legolas nods in affirmation. “That’s good.”

Aragorn looks beautiful, Legolas realizes with an odd sinking feeling, the colours and the hair making Aragorn look so much more refined, the emphasis on his blue eyes even greater than normal. This is going to be very distracting, Legolas decides with a sense of dramatic doom.

He looks into his eyes for a moment and is enthralled by what he finds there, Aragorn is looking at him fiercely but with a gentleness that rocks him. He wonders if Aragorn can see Legolas laid open in his own eyes, whether they betray all he is feeling.

“Aragorn…” He whispers with a strength of emotion that shocks him as he stares back, breath hitching in his throat.

“It’s okay.” Aragorn says so softly that Legolas wants to melt. “I know.”

And then Aragorn reaches up, brushing his hand against Legolas’ cheek, tipping his face down to look straight at him. The Elf feels his eyes close as though guided by magic as the agonizing distance between them finally closes, till Aragorn’s warm breath ghosts along his lips, a premonition of the next moment as they meet in the middle. Legolas reaches up to fist his hand in Aragorns soft hair, forgetting all about the braids, closing any semblance of space between them as for one glorious moment everything falls away, the knowledge of what they’ll have to do in just a few hours. But here in the armoury in Minas Tirith it is just the two of them, floating amongst nothingness, connected by a last chance for redemption in their final hours.

They break and the loss is almost unbearable, Legolas lets his forehead fall against Aragorns, breathing sharply, neither one of them speaking, neither one of them needing to. They had said all that they could already. Legolas feels his face light up in a smile and he hastens a glance back at Aragorn who’s starting to laugh under his breath.

“We have to get out alive now.” He says, shaking his head and grinning. “So we can do that again.”

****

If Gimli notices the braids in Aragorn’s hair or the slightly bedraggled nature of Legolas’ he doesn’t say anything although the smug looks are enough to get across the ‘I told you so’. But as Aragorn leads his people into hell it is not doom Legolas feels but hope and gratitude, that at least if they are doing this, it’s together.

**Author's Note:**

> me searching frantically through the aralas fics: okay this is cool and all but where's the one where Legolas braids Aragorns hair after the battle for pellinor fields????
> 
> Anyways hope y'all enjoyed this little fic I wrote in two days, kudos and comments are greatly appreciated as always ♥


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